


Dulce et Decorum Est

by Judiejodia



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, F/M, LadyNoir - Freeform, Mutual Pining, also I can't believe I'm forcing myself to write a balcony scene, and friendship shenanigans, don't let the tags fool you this is some heavy, not a superhero au but secret identities play a part, oh right because I like slow burns, sort of fantasy/fairytale? idk, why did I rope myself into this, with a side of adrinette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-10-29 06:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10848507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judiejodia/pseuds/Judiejodia
Summary: Marinette loved her country and her people: through her responsibilities, through her deep connection to the country's future, through her own beating heart, she had learned to love them; if ensuring a future for them meant learning to love a man she had never even seen, or heard, or felt, so be it.in arranged marriages, the marriage candidates were prohibited from seeing each other, much less any image of their intended, until one night before the wedding. No other contact was allowed either. And to not let two betrothed royals meet each other until one night before their wedding for tradition’s sake was utter nonsense, if you asked Adrien.Amour chassé-croissé, but not quite the way you're used to. Watch me stumble through a fic with actual plot and gratuitous musical references.





	1. Chapter One: Prologue

If you’d ask Marinette what was most important in life, she’d answer you with _love_ before you could’ve finished your question. Not only did Marinette thrive by the love she received from her parents and friends, she also _knew_ that the love she held for her country and its people was what would make her a good queen: while leadership skills and a good education surely didn’t come amiss, it was love that made her determined to rule well and made sure that she never underestimated her responsibilities or dreaded her duties too much.

 If only love could also make her be on time, for once.

 On a fine February morning, Marinette was racing down the palace halls, skirts in hand and crown sliding down her forehead, muttering “Late, late, late _late LATE!”_ under her breath. She was on her way to one of the main ceremonial rooms of the palace, and still had to cross half a wing to get there. She flew down the marble stairs in the main hall, skidded around a corner and raced past a dozen doors and a startled servant, before slowing down to a jog and stopping in front of two large doors with gilded decorations. She brushed the dust from her dress, readjusted her tiara and pushed some loose locks behind her ears; she’d chosen the heavy gown, made of a deep red satin, specifically to look mature and stately. She realized of course that she kind of shot that horse in the face by coming late to a ceremony that revolved around her future, but she stuck her chin in the air and opened the heavy doors to walk in like it was all planned. She’d rather die than let anyone know the crown princess of Castilia was a clumsy fool who couldn’t keep to a schedule to save her life.

The first thing Marinette noticed when she opened the doors was everyone, ministers, ambassadors and people from the court, turning their heads towards her, and she felt her cheeks heating up. _Come_ on _, Mari,_ she said to herself, disappointed that even now she couldn’t keep herself in check. She spotted her parents in time to see her mother let out an almost unnoticeable sigh, and while it could be interpreted as relieved, the way she held her arms behind her back and her shoulders straightened meant that Marinette would hear about this later. She strutted towards her parents, and lined up behind them, while her lady in waiting, Alya, came to stand at her side. Marinette snuck a glance at her best friend, and saw that as usual, she had trouble containing her smile. She’d long ago given up on performing her duties correctly and getting Marinette out of her rooms in time, and Marinette could hardly blame her.

“How nice of you to join us, dear,” queen Sabine said with one of her _looks_ towards Marinette, and smiled afterwards more to placate their guests than to greet her. “Now that the key to our peace treaty is present, dear ambassadors, won’t you begin?”

“Of course, your majesty.” One of the ambassadors stepped forward. He rolled out the document he was holding and cleared his throat before starting to read out loud. “ _As was agreed on by both parties, to be finalized  as of this moment, the following conditions will determine the nature of the new peace treaty between-”_

Marinette zoned out almost immediately, as the beginning of the ceremony consisted purely of reading over the entire peace treaty once more, as if her parents, parliament and the ambassadors from Argón hadn’t spent nearly three years to draw it up. Marinette almost knew it by heart by now; while Castilia and Argón had known many wars in the past and while hostility had been the order of the day for as long as she had lived, finally the two kingdoms were prepared to lay aside their differences and cooperate for once. A trade route would be opened here, a border garrison disbanded there and the borders would be opened; King Gabriel was hard to negotiate with, but an agreement had been made.

“Your Highness, if this be thy will, answer now and forever more with _yes.”_

Marinette was yanked out of her reveries by this question, because it was directed at her. They had finally arrived at the part that would be the key to their treaty, that would ensure an undeniable loyalty to peace from both countries and would change Marinette’s life forever.

Her Royal Highness Marietta-Madeline Amalie Ariane of the united houses of Dupain-Cheng, crown princess and heir apparent of the kingdom of Castilia, would wed the Crown prince of Argón, his Royal Highness prince Adrien, son of king Gabriel of the house Agreste, joining their two kingdoms together once both had ascended their respective thrones.

Marinette took a big breath, stepped forward in between her parents, and offered the ambassador her hand. “ _Yes_ ,” she said, and she hoped she sounded as determined and decided as the words sounded for her, as the words seemed to echo throughout the otherwise silent and expectant room. This sealed her fate forever; if not determining her destiny as a queen, it at least ensured her personal life, her love, was officially in service of the crown as well. She wasn't afraid; she knew this was coming and had agreed to it herself, but she couldn't deny that it was still a heavy burden to carry. She had never even met her newly acquired intended.

The ambassador kissed her hand, as tradition demanded, then handed her a quill and held the treaty up for her to sign, as her parents had done just now before her. She stepped back, glad her part of the ceremony was over. Marinette had become quite good at matters of the state, as was expected of her as future queen, so she didn't even bat her eyes anymore at debating with ministers and opening new libraries in attempts to connect with her subjects, but this time was different: this time it was about her, Marinette, and not about Her Royal Highness. She felt Alya take her hand and make sure it was hidden behind their full skirts. Only then did she notice that she had been trembling. Her hold on Alya’s hand fastened.

Marinette loved her country and her people: through her responsibilities, through her deep connection to the country's future, through her own beating heart, she had learned to love them; if ensuring a future for them meant learning to love a man she had never even seen, or heard, or felt, so be it.

If you’d ask Adrien what was most important in life, he’d probably say duty, and to always use your head. In truth, he knew he was inclined to trust his heart and his gut more than anything, but he’d learned to suppress both from a very young age, giving him headaches more often than not. _A Prince must always place his country first,_ his father would say. _Despite everything, be hard, be cold, be strict. Only then can you do what is right for all._ However, King Gabriel believed in controlling his son’s life until his dying day and from the grave if he could help it, so Adrien’s duty right now was to _obey_ ; he’d get his shot at ruling once it was his turn. Adrien did not necessarily agree, but he’d long ago learned as well that his father was more bullheaded than an _actual_ bull, so he’d given up on arguing with him when it didn’t concern him or his life.

That didn't mean he _had_ no opinion on most matters, however. And to not let two betrothed royals meet each other until one night before their wedding for tradition’s sake was utter _nonsense_ , if you asked Adrien. Sure, he could understand that the ignorance would ensure that neither bride nor groom would run screaming for the hills and break the treaty, but _come on_! It was his heart that was being bartered away; might he at least meet the person they had sold it to?! He had a duty to his kingdom, and he was not about to forego it just because his fiancée might be unlikeable or hideous.

But, tradition was tradition: in arranged marriages, the marriage candidates were prohibited from seeing each other, much less any image of their intended, until one night before the wedding. No other contact was allowed either. The night before, a ball would be held were the two would meet. In the last few years, costume balls had become increasingly popular, and coincidentally unmasking the marriage candidates in front of each other added some extra pomp to the whole ceremony.

So on this fine February evening, Adrien was positively _sulking._ He’d performed all his duties for the day, which meant that most people would leave him alone in his chambers for the rest of the night.

“What’s gotten into you today?”

 _Most_ being the key word, here.

Nino, his page and best friend ever since he got assigned to help Adrien do stuff he could do perfectly fine himself, like getting dressed and make his bed (he was a prince, not a _child_ ), stuck his head over the back of the couch, where Adrien had been laying upside down with his feet in the air for the better part of an hour.

“Did you find anything?” Adrien asked, not bothering to get up . “Please tell me you found something or I’ll _die.”_ For extra measure he threw his arm over his forehead.

Nino laughed at that. He pulled on Adrien’s feet, trying to get him to sit upright, but the prince wouldn’t budge. Instead he rested his forearms on the back of the couch and looked at Adrien. “You’re being a little dramatic right now. Slightly more than usual, anyway.”

“Shut up. Just tell me what you found!”

“You’re contradicting yourself there, buddy.”

“You know what I mean.”

"Aren’t we a little eager, hm?” Nino sighed. “Sorry bro, but I found nothing.”

Adrien slumped even further down the couch and groaned. “How is that even possible? The capital of Castilia is literally only 10 miles away from ours, but there’s literally nothing to be found about their princess?!”

Nino quirked an eyebrow. “If you hadn’t noticed yet, _your Highness_ , your two countries have been fighting for the better part of two decades, there’s a GIANT wall in between your capitals,and  the border’s been closed forever. Ring a bell?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Adrien sighed. “What about the ambassadors? Any new information there?”

“Welll….” Nino sighed. “I’m sorry bro, they won’t be back until after the wedding, and I’ve checked with their families, but they don’t exactly go describing the princess head to toe in their letters home. All I know is what you know: the treaty was signed by Castilia today. ”

“Grrreat,” Adrien sighed. “I’m getting married in three months and no one knows anything about the bride, least of all me.” He looked at his friend, then back at the ceiling. “I don’t mind, you know. I agreed to this whole married thing myself and I _meant_ it. Peace would bring about so much prosperity for Argón. But-”

“But _knowing_...?” Nino asked.

“Not knowing what I actually signed up for won’t do,” Adrien agreed. “Tradition be damned.”

“I’m sorry, Adrien. Wish I could’ve actually gone to Castilia to find out more.” Nino patted his leg awkwardly, then stood up and stretched. “You okay for tonight?”

 Adrien waved him away, signaling he didn’t need any more babysitting for now, and Nino left for his own sleeping quarters. A soft _meow_ told him someone else was ready to come comfort him, and when Plagg, his black cat, jumped onto his stomach (Adrien let out a big _oompf,_ Plagg was getting HEAVY) he knew this whole situation was indeed ridiculous. Plagg was anything but affectionate when _Adrien_ needed it, so for him to offer cuddles willingly meant he was a mess right now and looked the part.

Who could blame him, though?

No, Adrien decided another hour later into the night as he grabbed a cloak, some rope and a mask he had lying about from the latest masked ball, no, _this would not do_.


	2. Chapter Two: an Unusual Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot is set in motion, like a barrel hurdling down a hill. Towards a cliff. With a waterfall. With spiky rocks at the bottom.

When Alya entered her rooms, Marinette was in the middle of getting ready for bed. She’d removed her shoes, which had started to pinch her toes halfway through the afternoon activities, and had taken off her heavy crown and removed her jewelry. She’d been staring at her newest acquisition, a white gold ring with a small white diamond, circled by smaller diamonds. While she’d been told that her fiancé had had this ring made specifically for her himself, it had been given to her by the ambassadors at the end of the ceremony. 

Alya took one look at her best friend, sitting in front of her boudoir, sighing and staring at her hand, and Marinette immediately knew that she was in trouble. Alya would never let her go to bed in the mood that she was in. 

She was right. She felt two soft arms wrap around her and alya’s cheek rub against hers. “What’s wrong, Mari?” she said. Marinette felt Alya’s upcoming grin against her cheek. “Is the diamond not big enough? I knew it, you’re marrying a pauper! We’d better call it off now, just say the words,” she said jokingly.

Marinette smiled begrudgingly. The ring was actually quite her taste, modest and fragile as it was. She’d always had an eye for fashion, and she was glad that she hadn't been given some gaudy thing. Still, that would’ve been the least of her problems. She picked herself up however, and smirked at Alya through the mirror. “There is something you can help me with, actually.” She stood up and disconnected from Alya’s arms, and turned around to hold her by her shoulders. Alya looked back, questioning her with her eyes.

“Okay, stand here,” Marinette said, putting Alya directly in front of herself. She pulled off her ring and dropped it into Alya’s hand, who seemed completely lost now. Marinette giggled, “Now drop to one knee, please.”

That's where Alya caught on, and she burst out laughing while kneeling in front of Marinette. She lowered her voice, putting one hand on her chest and holding the other out to Marinette with the ring, saying, “My dearest, darlingest princess, light of my life-stop laughing- will you please accept my hand in marriage, lest all of our parents kill us? You are the most beautiful creature I ever beheld, especially when you're laughing so hard snot is coming out of your nose.”

Marinette, by that time, had already doubled over laughing, but she still let Alya slide the ring back on. She dropped to the floor too, leaning against Alya and looking back at her adorned hand. The diamond twinkled, like it knew it was causing trouble for its wearer. “I did miss it, you know,” she said. “a real proposal might’ve been nice.” 

“Never knew you had a thing for guys on their knees.” 

Marinette snorted.

“You are the best and worst lady in waiting I’ve ever had.”

Alya sneered at that. “Don’t let the other ladies hear that. They might not agree with the former.”

The princess looked up af that. “How so?” She asked.

“They’re still saying you deserve someone more...elegant. We all know what that means.”

Marinette crinkled her nose. 

“Honestly, if we’re judging ladies on their elegance now, I shouldn’t even be allowed to be princess.”

Alya laughed at that. 

Marinette knew what they had meant, though; it was a thinly veiled excuse to call Alya fat, and they’d been using it against her ever since she got appointed three years ago. It was obvious that they were jealous; the two girls had hit it off right away, and Alya was less inclined to supervise Marinette properly and more interested in providing good companionship, which Marinette didn't mind in the least but rubbed some of the older ladies at court the wrong way. Not to mention that Alya gave the best hugs ever, something she desperately needed right now. She had a scary time ahead of her.

After a while Alya stood up and pulled Marinette to her feet.

“Okay, your royal mopeyness, it's time to go to bed. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

“Don’t I always?” Marinette sighed.

Alya did not play around though, and helped Marinette take her hair out of its elaborate updo before moving over to her own sleeping quarters next to Marinette’s. Marinette wasn't ready for sleep yet though. Today had really left an impression on her; it was finally dawning on her how close she was to everything changing forever. While she was pulling her nightgown over her head, she decided to catch some fresh air on her balcony first, as the thought of marrying in three months felt like it was cutting off her windpipe. She put on a robe as well,softly opened her balcony doors and stepped outside into the cool night. She loved her view: she had a view of the sea, and the moonlight was clear enough to leave behind a trail of glittering waves up to the horizon. She was so lucky, to have a view of the ocean and the night sky like this. She wondered if she got to keep it. The idea was that when the borders would open they would travel from her husband's palace and hers constantly, but would she get to keep her old room, with the view that never got old? 

Hanging over the edge of the balcony, she sighed again and pointed her gaze downwards. She saw the plants covering the palace walls, the fountain that was right beneath her window in the garden, and someone climbing her wall. 

Wait. 

Someone was climbing Marinette’s wall.

He moved slowly, so the dark figure made little sound, but Marinette was sure that that something that was steadily moving up her wall was a person clad in all black. She panicked. Was that an assassin?! What was she supposed to do, sound the alarm? That would give the intruder ample warning, and he would have enough opportunity to flee then. How had he even gotten so far into the palace grounds? She could wake Alya, but she would only endanger someone who wasn't targeted then. Obviously, a stranger climbing the walls leading to the room of the only heir to Castilia’s throne was coming for that heir. Heiress? Marinette shook her head. Now was not the time to ponder semantics. 

No, it was time to take action herself; if she disarmed him on her balcony and then alarmed the guards, he’d be caught. She tiptoed back inside and looked for something she could use. Her eyes fell on one of her heavy candelabras and she picked it up from the dressoir it had been standing on. She went back to her balcony, leaning into the thick plants that covered one side of her balcony and stole a glance over the edge. Her assailant was almost at the top. She leaned back further, hoping he wouldn't notice her while he was heaving himself over the balustrade. So she waited.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, she saw two gloved hands and a foot appear. 

*-*-*

The last thing that Adrien remembered seeing before getting hit over the head with a large candelabra, was a pair of heavenly blue eyes.

Heavenly eyes that were openly staring at him as well when he woke up. He raised his arm to rub the bump on the back of his head, but the girl that was attached to the candelabra flinched immediately and raised her weapon of choice even higher above her head. Adrien carefully put his arm back down, not really looking forward to getting another bump. 

The girl’s eyes narrowed, making her blue eyes look even more fierce. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” she asked. 

Adrien tried to get to his feet, but the girl kept him on the floor with a stern look and another threat of her makeshift weapon. He put his hands up, indicating that he wasn’t here to harm her.   
“Look, lady,” he said. “All I want is a quick audience with the princess. Now I know her quarters are here, so could you take me to her?”

The girl scoffed. “Why would you think a random masked and armed scoundrel who broke into the palace would be allowed anywhere near the crown princess?” she asked.

This made Adrien smirk. “Because I’m here on behalf of her betrothed, maybe?” he shot at her.

The girl's eyes widened, but she regained her composure almost immediately. “Sure you are,” she said, putting a hand on her hip and the candelabra over her shoulder.

Adrien smiled again and ripped his glove off, waving his hand in her face, which made her recoil.

“It’s true! He even gave me his signet ring to prove it, see? The crest is there and all!”

The girl grabbed his hand and examined the silver ring with narrowed eyes, and the shock on her face when she concluded it was real was priceless.

“So, now that we’ve established that I’m not a threat, may I please request an audience with the princess?!’ Adrien asked.

*-*-*

Marinette almost responded with you’re looking at her, but stopped herself at the last moment. How was this boy so dumb as not to realize that the girl he encountered on the princess’ balcony was most likely the princess herself? And why would she not take this opportunity to figure out his (or her betrothed’s, apparently) true intentions with her?

“The princess is already asleep, and I am under strict orders not to wake her,” Marinette lied. “So whatever you want with her, you’ll have to just tell me.” 

The boy looked disappointed at that. It didn't deter him, though. 

“And who might you be,” he asked, “that you are on the princess’ balcony in the middle of the night, ready to bash in the heads of dashing rogues?” he asked. 

“Her lady in waiting.” 

“And your name…?” he asked, flashing her once more one of his infuriating smiles.

This startled Marinette. Her mind went blank. She hadn't thought of a name! She looked around, panicking. That's when she spotted a little ladybug crawling over the greenery covering the side of her balcony.

“Ladybug,” she let slip, immediately regretting it. Ladybug?! She should slap herself. 

Apparently he had followed her gaze to the little creature, because he let out a laugh that tinkled like bells and made a grand bow.

“My lady,” he greeted, grinning up at her. Why hadn’t she taken inspiration from the white flowers and called herself Lily or Daisy or something else flowery that was a perfectly normal name?! She huffed, her cheeks red from embarrassment. Fine. She could work with this ridiculousness. 

She gestured to the black getup of not-her-assassin. “And what should I call you, then? Apparently, vile thug doesn’t really apply.” He almost looked affronted by that, but touched the ears of his mask and twirled a whisker. Could this guy be any more dramatic?

“Why, if you insist on code names and are a lucky ladybug, my lady, I guess I’ll be a black cat. Call me Chat Noir,” he said. 

“Of course I’m not giving you my real name,” Marinette hissed. “The princess is not to have any contact with her betrothed! What if all this is discovered and I’m dragged down with you?!”

“I would never rat a lady out,” he joked. She huffed. 

“What are you even doing here?” she asked. “You said you are here on behalf of prince Adrien. Well then, what is so urgent that he is willing to break a century old tradition?”

“Getting to know his fiancée,” Chat Noir confessed, his eyes shining with something Marinette couldn’t decipher. “No, really,” he suddenly started, “don’t you think the entire tradition is ridiculous?” he looked at her pleadingly, as if trying to make her understand. Hah, no one understands better than I, Marinette thought. “Two people are meant to spend their lives together, heck, even lead two countries together, without sharing as much as a word or a look before their wedding day,” he went on. “Well,” he said, straightening up, “prince Adrien hates it, and says to hell with the entire tradition, and that’s why I’m here.” 

Marinette melted at that. Her fiancé wanted to get to know her? He’d let someone break into the palace to get to her high tower? The only thing she could’ve appreciated more was if he’d done it himself. However, she couldn’t just come clean now. She was supposed to be asleep inside, and she’d keep playing this role. She’d already gotten much more than she would’ve as her Royal Highness. 

“Too bad,” Marinette said. “As I said, the princess is asleep, and I’m not going to wake her. In any way I’m quite sure she wouldn’t even approve of all this secret scheming.” 

Chat Noir deflated, disappointed. Man, he must really care about his prince, Marinette thought. The prince’s predicament seemed to affect his attendants just as much. 

“However,” Marinette (Ladybug) said, “I can tell you about her. Who is a better source of information about the princess than her personal companion and friend? All I want is one tiny little thing in return.”

“Anything,” he pleaded, exhaling loudly. 

“I want info on the prince in return.” 

Chat Noir quirked an eyebrow under his mask. “I thought the princess would disapprove of deceit like this? Why would she want info on the prince?” he questioned. 

Marinette scoffed. “Nevermind what she wants,” she said, which startled the boy, “I want info on him. Just because she’s above this doesn’t mean I am, and I want to know whether he’s worthy of her. She’s my best friend,” she smirked. “So, are you in? You can come back tomorrow at the same time, and if you manage to sneak past the guards again, I’ll tell you about her.”

Chat Noir stuck out his ungloved hand with a smile that made his eyes twinkle, and Marinette took it. “You’ve got a deal,” he said. They shook hands. 

What had she done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAN'T BELIEVE IT TOOK ME FOUR MONTHS TO UPDATE THIS. Anyway, hope you enjoy, hope you spot the musical references, hope it doesn't take as long next time lol. 
> 
> Can I just say that i LOVE writing dramatic irony? It's so much fun to read and even more to write. I'm just sitting there sniggering behind my laptop. Also, that scene with Alya turned out way more gay than intended, but imo that's a good thing haha.

**Author's Note:**

> Well then. I thought I'd never have the balls to do this, but here we are. 
> 
> Anyway, the title comes from Horace, the whole line is 'dulce et decorum est pro patria mori', or, in a language that is not taking a long nap, 'how sweet and honourable it is, to die for your country', which it probably slightly feels like to these kids. Fun times. 
> 
> Anyway, if anyone catches the musical reference in the prologue, I'd be hella impressed, because I had to translate that shit from German. You're welcome.


End file.
